


Best of Three

by Attaining



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Crushes, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Theon Greyjoy-centric, Tickling, dare I say cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attaining/pseuds/Attaining
Summary: Robb and Theon's sparring match is interrupted when Robb remembers just how ticklish Theon is.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	Best of Three

**Author's Note:**

> A nonny on Tumblr asked for a sparring match turned tickle fight turned make out session. So here's what I came up with!
> 
> This is perhaps the least angsty, most Teen rated thing I've ever written in this fandom. A STRETCH FOR ME I HOPE IT'S OKAY, NONNY. Takes place sometime before the start of the series.

His father would thrash him fiercely if he learned Robb and Theon were stealing into the practice yard in the dead of night, to spare no less.

“Relax, Stark, no one is awake to care,” Theon said with that smile of his, lantern held aloft. “Worry more for your arse.” 

“Shut up, Greyjoy,” Robb grumbled, shoving him with his elbow, grinning despite himself. “Your words are horse shit or Grey Wind’s a winged bat.” 

“That he is,” Theon laughed and spread his arms wide. “Saw him fly right off with a wench’s skirt in his teeth.” 

Robb shoved him again. He was so lewd and Robb hated the way Theon’s jokes made his breeches feel… uncomfortable. Theon took his actions to mean it was as good a place as any for their rematch. He set the lantern down and squared his stance: best two out of three rounds for first rights to Mikken’s newest batch of quality steel. Theon had goaded him into it after losing the first round. As Ned Stark’s son, Robb easily could have taken it, but he had convinced Ser Rodrik to make the odds fair for Jon and Theon.  _ I’m an idiot, and that’s why I’m about to pound Theon Greyjoy into the dirt for a sword.  _

It always seemed hard to say no to Theon.

They were still learning hand-to-hand combat, how to best a man when you’ve lost your sword or a knife is pulled on you. Theon lunged forward and made a chopping motion with his hand, but Robb blocked, mirth blossoming in his chest. “Do you want that sword or to take me dancing?”

They grappled then, Theon seizing him with a tight grin. “Better I teach you, I’ve seen you try. No wonder you’ve yet to bed a woman.” 

An armlock later and they had both lost their form, shoving and pulling just to get the better ground. Robb scoffed, “Some men honor a woman’s virtue, but what do you honor?” 

“A tight cunt,” Theon said with a growl, his hands curling around Robb’s collar. He flushed at the contact, the sudden brush of Theon’s fingers across his skin. He was distracted, and Theon shifted his weight and turned, making to throw him over his shoulder. Robb panicked and without thinking, lashed out at Theon’s stomach, his fingers slipping easily under the loose shirt. Ten fingers danced over Theon’s middle and he crumbled, releasing Robb and barking in laughter. “Stark!” he complained, squirming away. “You swore you’d never tell, you wretched cheat!” 

“Didn’t tell a soul!” he smirked at Theon’s bubbling laughter. Possessed, Robb pushed on with vicious precision, tickling over his toned stomach. That tightness in his breeches returned, his skin was so smooth. Theon was lean and taut, always bragging about his looks. He couldn’t stop smiling as Theon swatted at him, falling on his rear and reaching for his own devilish defense. As Robb leaned in to tickle his ribs, Theon’s hands slid under his collar, ghosting across his shoulders like spider legs. Robb twitched with a gasp.  _ How did he know?  _

“You think I don’t know you?” Theon mocked, shrill and bucking underneath Robb. He forgot to breath, shivering under Theon’s touch, laughter escaping from him even as gooseflesh spread down his arms.  _ What else does he know?  _ Robb wondered, his hands suddenly flat against hot skin, fear caught in his throat.  _ Does he know this?  _

Some madness came over him then as he ran his hands up Theon’s chest and his chuckling faded. “Robb?”

He couldn’t meet his eyes, only drifted closer as Theon pulled him down. Their lips met, crashing against each other like waves on the rocks of White Harbor. He was soft, impossibly soft.  _ Is a woman like this, too?  _ He hadn’t thought a man could melt under him like this. Theon’s lips parted and his tongue dipped in to taste Robb. Soft, wet, warm. Robb was dizzy, he hadn’t kissed anyone before, but there Theon was, hungry and fierce, drawing him closer, hands trailing over his shoulders. Robb trembled and whimpered as Theon nudged his knee between his legs and the friction was unlike anything he had experienced before. He was burning in the lantern light, Theon’s hands lost in Robb’s hair as he nibbled at his lip. Close, so impossibly close, and to his best friend. Robb leaned in, deepening the kiss, and Theon met him, fighting him every moment of the way. Though it had started almost tender, it turned biting, a new spin on their sparring match. It was hard to breathe, sharing air between them as their tongues fought. He was breathless at the feel of him, thinking of his sea green eyes. 

A horse nickered in the distance and the spell was broken. Robb looked down on Theon in the light, shadows dancing over his face, his lips swollen and parted still. He licked his bottom lip agonizingly slow, noting Robb’s hands on either side of his head. His eyes trailed down Robb even further, smirking when he saw the Stark heir had a sword at the ready. Robb swallowed and fell back on his arse, panting.  _ I kissed him, I kissed Theon.  _

“So who wins the sword?” Theon asked casually, trying to catch his breath, face red in the lantern light.

Robb considered, his cheeks burning hotter than the sun. It had been a draw, really. “Jon, I supposed.”

“The bastard?” Theon made a face. “Never!”

Robb leaned in close, stealing a last kiss before he unleashed his fingers into the older boy’s ribs, Theon’s cursing tongue and laughter peeling into the night. 


End file.
